


Debriefings

by irisbleufic



Series: Come As You Are [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Apologies, Arkham Asylum, Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Awkward Romance, Brothers, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Confessions, Demisexuality, Disability, Do not translate without permission or copy to another site/app, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Gender Dysphoria, Guilt, Hidden Depths, Humor, Intersex Character, Jerome Valeska Lives, Laughter, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Neurodiversity, Nonbinary Character, Other, Psychological Trauma, Queer Character, References to Misgendering in Childhood, References to Old Computer Games, Reunions, Siblings, Teasing, Therapy, Trans Character, Twins, Unconventional Families, Villains, Weird Fluff, mlm & wlw solidarity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “Jesus!” Jeremiah hissed when Jerome snuck up behind him on the living room balcony.“Wasn’t gonna push ya,” Jerome taunted, shaking Jeremiah by his stiff shoulders. “Relax.”“Maybe not this time,” Jeremiah muttered, shrugging him off. “It’s…quite a view, isn’t it?”Jerome rested his forearms against the railing, leaning hard. “Don’t get any ideas, genius. You can’t have the place.”“You think I’d wantthiswhen I have Wayne Manor?” Jeremiah scoffed. “Absurd.”
Relationships: 514A & Jerome Valeska, 514A & Jerome Valeska & Ecco, 514A/Jerome Valeska, Ecco & Ivy Pepper (Gotham), Ecco & Jeremiah Valeska, Ecco & Jerome Valeska, Ecco/Ivy Pepper (Gotham), Jeremiah Valeska & Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Series: Come As You Are [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1313342
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	1. Five

Five took one of the mugs of hot chocolate he’d just made over to Jerome, who was sitting amidst the messy covers on the bed he couldn’t help but think of as _theirs_. He bent and pressed the mug into Jerome’s hands.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back,” Five said, rushing back toward the kitchen-side of the impressively sprawling space before Jerome could even think about delaying him, taking up the two remaining mugs. “I promise.”

“Do what you’ve gotta do,” Jerome replied, watching Five until he was well beyond the security door.

“Bless your weird little heart,” Harley said, letting Five into the spare room, glancing up from her phone.

“Careful,” Five said, handing her one of the mugs. “It’s really hot.” He frowned. “At least...I think?”

“Jerome told me you can’t feel _shit_ when it comes to pain,” Harley said with envy. “Useful!”

“I guess,” Five said noncommittally, backing toward the door. “Are you going to be all right?”

Harley sat back against her nest of pillows, stealing a look at her phone. “Yep. Right as rain.”

Five nodded hesitantly and took a gulp of cocoa. “Strange didn’t do anything…terrible to you?”

“Knocked me out when he abducted me a few days back,” Harley said. “Otherwise? Nah.”

“Jerome told me you were his student a long time ago,” said Five. “Maybe it kept you alive.”

Harley nodded in agreement. “Strange may have been a schmuck, but he had his weak spots.”

“You played him,” Five said admiringly, grinning over the rim of his mug at her. “How?”

“Talked a good game about wantin’ to join him. He relied on his T.A. _way_ too much.”

“That checks out,” Five replied. “He relied on Ms. Peabody—she helped him run Indian Hill.”

“Shoo,” Harley said. “Jerome needs you worse than I do.” She sniffed into her mug, squeezing her eyes shut for a second, and then broke into a smile. “Thanks for lettin’ me stay here tonight. I'll be outta your hair tomorrow.”

Five shrugged, already halfway out the door. “This is your home more than it’s ours. Harley?”

“Man, you just don’t quit,” she replied, blinking at him in annoyance. “What’s the matter?”

“She liked you,” Five said, indicating Harley’s phone. “The redhead in Penguin’s crew. Ask her—”

“One step ahead of ya,” Harley reassured him, sighing bemusedly. “Now, jeez, get outta here!”

Jerome set his mug on the nightstand when Five came back into the bunker’s living quarters.

“Put that down,” he said, opening his arms wide. “C’mere, princess. You look kinda bummed.”

Five set his mug beside Jerome’s, which was already empty, and then climbed onto the bed.

“I could’ve gotten us killed,” he said, curling up against Jerome’s chest as Jerome held him.

“Nah,” Jerome said, smoothing Five’s hair back. “I’m the one who almost fucked us over.”

Five shrugged. “Bruce and your brother made sure you didn’t do something reckless like me.”

Jerome made a disgusted sound, but there was resignation in it, too. “Yeah. Big damn heroes.”

Five wasn’t about to say it in so many words, but he’d been impressed with Jeremiah’s poise.

“Was Jeremiah the tough one when you were growing up?” he asked, failing miserably anyway.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” Jerome muttered. “We were tough about different things.”

“That makes sense,” Five said thoughtfully. “I’m guessing he didn’t take misgendering well.”

“Nope. I defended him when that happened. Gave more than a few Grayson brats a black eye.”

“I believe it.” Five pressed his lips to Jerome’s neck, not quite a kiss. “What was he tough about?”

“Taking it whenever Mom or one of her deadbeat boyfriends hit us,” Jerome said. “Never made a sound. He knew he wasn’t quite strong enough to fight back, though. He got wise to what else might be in store for _him particularly_ if he didn’t hide. So, by the time we were six or seven, he was nowhere to be found any time it looked like it was gonna come to blows.”

“I wish you hadn’t had to pretend to be brave,” Five said. “You’re brave now, but…nobody’s that brave when they’re young. Not even him.”

“You got that right. Easy to be brave when your opponent’s another kid. Otherwise, no dice.”

“That’s unfair. Wait, you said…by the time you were six or seven, which makes me think…”

“Don’t feel bad, precious. With Mom, yeah, it started pretty early. The first time, we were just about old enough to play computer games.”

“What happened?” Five blurted, before he could think better of it. “Wait. You don’t have to—”

“It was the first time my bro asked if he could wear my clothes. Actually, he asked if we could _trade_. I was down for that. I wanted to be Carmen Sandiego when I grew up. Badass spy, reddish hair—y’know? That dress seemed logical to put on.”

“It should’ve been. I wish you your mother hadn’t hurt you for it. You still could. Wear one, I mean.”

“I realize now that’s just not my style,” Jerome replied. “ _You_ look great in that kinda thing, though.”

Five lifted his head and kissed Jerome, his thoughts forming what was likely a radical sentiment.

“You should talk to Jeremiah,” he said, pressing their foreheads together. “Sooner than later.”

Jerome set his lips in a grim line, but didn’t resist. “I don’t even mind admitting you’re right.”

“He did a lot for you,” Five said hesitantly, wondering if he was pushing the issue too hard, “just like you did a lot for him. There was the bad stuff he did years ago, but…he got you out of Arkham. And you wouldn’t sell him out to Strange.”

“He wouldn’t sell _you_ out to Strange, either,” Jerome countered. “Neither would Bruce.”

Five reached for the nightstand, fetching his hot chocolate without knocking it on the floor.

“Bruce is still just enough of a goody-two-shoes to care,” he said, offering Jerome the mug.

“Sweet pea, that’s yours,” Jerome insisted, nudging it back at him. “I’ll make us some more.”

Five gulped the rest and set his mug back on the nightstand. He turned, straddling Jerome’s lap, making sure Jerome looked him in the eye.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Five asked, feeling foolish for asking a fellow killer if he was going to be able to cope after what they’d been through in the last few weeks. “I don’t want you to worry about me, but I’m worried about _you_.”

Jerome just stared at him for a few seconds. He kissed Five deeply, massaging from the small of Five’s back up to Five’s shoulder blades.

“Nobody’s bothered to worry about me in a long time, princess,” he replied. “I’m flattered.”

Five sighed, letting his head fall to Jerome’s shoulder. “M’glad,” he murmured. “Don’t stop.”

“My only regret,” Jerome went on, continuing what he was doing to Five’s back, “is that Bruce and my bro had to promise the killing to Birdman and Captain Question-Mark. Would’ve been… _fun_ if we’d gotten to do that, doncha think?”

Five nodded, pulse quickening. “Yes,” he agreed, fussing with the fine hair at Jerome’s nape.

“The truth is, neither of us is okay,” Jerome concluded, pecking the side of Five’s neck, shy in spite of everything they’d done, “and _that’s_ okay.”

Five lifted his head, nodding eagerly when Jerome hesitated over bunching Five’s kimono up around his hips. “You’re sweeter than I imagined.”

“That’s because you deserve sweet, precious,” Jerome insisted, rolling his hips up against Five’s. He was in nothing but an undershirt and boxers, so attractive it was maddening. “You make me— _mmm_ , s’nice—wanna be.”

“I know you keep saying you used to be handsome,” said Five, “but I think you still are.”

“Go on sayin’ stuff like that to me, and it’ll go to my head,” Jerome said, his voice rough.

Five rocked down against him too gently—aiming to tease, but after a few minutes they were both wound-up and shaking. He fumbled Jerome’s cock out of his underwear, reaching for the travel-size lotion they’d stolen from Jeri’s place.

“What,” Jerome wheezed, head falling back when Five put a hand over his mouth and got him slick with the other. “Five— _Five_ , you’re gonna—”

“Hurt myself?” Five asked, going up on his knees, hoping this would work like he’d seen it work for others when he’d been Lucy’s bodyguard at the Foxglove. “Not likely. Unless you don’t…” He kept his hand on Jerome. “Did you like it when—when I was inside you?”

Jerome’s eyes were wide enough to look darker than their actual shade of blue. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Five said, pausing to kiss him, lingering over Jerome’s lower lip with his teeth. He was starting to feel the strain that holding this position put on his thighs, but it was worth both the view _and_ the heady sense of control.

Jerome made a choked sound, squeezing his eyes shut. “Yeah,” he panted again. “I wanna…”

Five stopped stroking Jerome’s cock, catching Jerome’s jaw in his free hand. “Wanna what?”

Jerome squirmed, finding it difficult due to the way Five had him trapped. “Make you come.”

“You do that all the time,” Five replied, feigning boredom, easing his grasp on Jerome’s chin.

“Not like this, I haven’t,” Jerome said, sounding surly. “I just…” He seemed to be having difficulty with words for some reason other than Five having stopped touching him. “Look, I wanna fuck you, I just _don’t_ wanna cause damage you might not feel. We’d be kinda screwed, in both senses.”

“Just because you’d be inside me doesn’t mean _you’d_ be doing the fucking,” Five said mildly, even though he was determined to keep Jerome submissive. Not that it had ever been a struggle to do that, he realized. He released Jerome’s chin and gave him a demanding kiss. “Trust me?”

Jerome just nodded, eyes tightly shut. The pressure of his fingers on Five’s hips was telling.

“You’re...you’ve been good,” Five faltered, realizing his dirty talk needed work, even if the effect on Jerome was heart-stopping. He made sure the kimono was bunched up sufficiently by Jerome’s hold on him, positioning himself before taking Jerome’s cock in his grasp. “ _So_ good for me.”

“Princess,” Jerome panted, holding him steady, eyes glazed as he opened them, “I…really?”

Instead of a verbal response, Five just sank down on him by degrees, concentrating fiercely.

Whatever Harley could or couldn’t hear up the hall was the farthest thing from Jerome’s mind. He made a broken sound, one Five hadn’t heard before—not even the other day in the shower. Letting Five lift up and sink down again, Jerome held him in place, panting harshly.

“I’m gonna come no matter what,” Five whispered, stroking Jerome’s face, pressing their foreheads together like he’d done before. “It feels…”

“You can…feel that?” Jerome rasped, voice catching on a gasp when Five started to rock in place again, gentle like before. “I mean, enough to…”

Whatever the angle was doing for Jerome, it was doing something for Five he couldn’t quantify until he was already gasping. He shuddered against Jerome, gritting his teeth at how sensitive the thin layer of silk between his cock and Jerome’s chest made him.

Jerome wouldn’t have lasted much longer, so Five didn’t feel bad about tripping off _his_ orgasm, too. He curled forward, crushing Five against him, his face buried in Five’s shoulder—at _least_ as wrecked as Five, and that was reassuring.

“Hey,” Five managed after a few minutes, throat raw. He mussed Jerome’s hair. “Was that…”

Jerome turned his head, pressing several slow, worshipful kisses against Five’s neck. “Yeah.”

Five lifted up until he felt Jerome slip out of him, shaking with the strain. “Same,” he panted.

Catching Five’s face in both hands, Jerome kissed him even slower and softer than he had before.

“Jeremiah’s not going to want the bed back,” Five blurted, and both of them burst out laughing.


	2. Bruce

“Harley,” Bruce said, letting her in the front door before Alfred could protest. “You look well.”

“You got here quick,” Jeremiah greeted her, and then looked to Alfred. “We won’t take long.”

“That’s not what concerns me,” Alfred replied, but he nodded and sauntered off down the hall.

“Alfred, you don’t have to…” Bruce trailed off, turning his attention back to Harley. “Sorry.”

“Sheesh, what a ray of sunshine,” Harley said, rummaging in her pockets. She pulled a memory stick out of one and her phone out of the other. “Surveillance from the last few days, so you can go through it at your leisure,” she said, handing the memory stick to Jeremiah, and then opened an app on her phone. “Just to give you an overview, it’s been quiet.”

Jeremiah pointed at several dark rectangles in the rows on Harley’s screen. “Why did you disable these interior feeds? I can see you’ve got the maze cameras still running, but why not the ones in my workspace and the living areas?”

Bruce read the reason in Harley’s wry expression. “At least they’re not getting into trouble.”

Jeremiah scoffed, displeased, glancing from Bruce to Harley. “You don’t seem that bothered.”

“They cuddle more than they fuck,” Harley said, “but recording that seemed more invasive than recording the other stuff. One time, there was a knife involved. I decided to spare your eyes.” She punched Jeremiah’s shoulder. “Anyway, why would it bother me? Soundproof walls.”

“Would you stay for lunch?” Bruce asked, feeling guilty. “Alfred didn’t mean it, I promise.”

“No, he did,” Jeremiah insisted dryly, folding his arms. “Bruce enjoys rubbing it in his face.”

“Thanks, nah,” Harley replied, sticking her phone in her pocket. “I can’t stay long anyhow.”

“I noticed you have a car waiting,” Bruce went on, ignoring Jeremiah’s jab. “I’ll pay for it.”

“That’s real sweet, but my wheels ain’t on your payroll,” Harley replied. “Need anythin’ else?”

Jeremiah tilted his head at her. “Then whose payroll are they on? You got here faster than—”

“Uh, yeah, ’bout that,” Harley said, checking her watch. “Five minutes between when I texted and when you guys let me in. Pretty good, huh? We came from just up the road. Such a pretty drive. You Palisades folks take landscaping real seriously, huh?”

Bruce realized that could mean one of two things. Either Harley had been at the Van Dahl Estate, or she’d been at the mansion the girls shared. He recalled the exchange he’d witnessed between Harley and Ivy at the gates of Arkham after they’d all emerged.

Jeremiah appeared to be the one ahead of the deduction curve this time around.

“I guess that means you didn’t spend last night at the bunker, or at your own apartment.”

Harley smirked at him. “You an’ Jerome ain’t got a trademark on romantic success.”

“What he means,” Bruce said wryly, “is that we wouldn’t mind having you nearby.”

Jeremiah looked like he wanted to say something petty, but didn’t. “I deserved that.”

“I’m not worried about _you_ guys,” Harley said, turning to let herself out. “Fightin’ like an old married couple already. The other two, though…”

“What’s wrong with them?” Bruce asked, experiencing a spike of worry in spite of himself.

Harley waved him off. “Forget I said that. They’ve got a version of the same thing goin’ on, by which I mean—Jerome’s smart enough to know his princess is in charge, period. That’s the kind of marriage that _really_ lasts.”

Jeremiah stared at the door for a few seconds after it slammed behind her, clearly too flummoxed to comment on her parting shot. “Ivy’s not…anti-car, or anything? She doesn’t refuse being driven around on the basis of…carbon emissions, or…”

“Penguin owns the vehicle they’re using,” Bruce said, shrugging. “I don’t know the rationale.”

Closing his eyes, Jeremiah exhaled forcefully. “I’m sorry I undermined you. About Alfred.”

“Why?” Bruce asked. “What you said was true. What I said to get back at you…wasn’t.”

“Well, that wasn’t what I meant by what I said,” Jeremiah said wryly, “but I _wouldn’t_ actually mind having her nearby. I would just…worry Jerome might need her. The two of them have excellent rapport.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Bruce admitted, feeling hopeless. “What to do about them.”

“I’d give them the bunker,” Jeremiah admitted, “except I can’t imagine Five would want to stay underground for much longer. He spent too much time there to begin with, as I understand it, at Indian Hill.”

“At least they’re safe for now,” Bruce said, reaching for Jeremiah’s hand. “Are you hungry?”

“Not just yet,” said Jeremiah, casting his gaze on the staircase. “I’d rather rest for a while.”

Bruce led him upstairs, fondly suspecting that rest wasn’t really what Jeremiah had in mind.

“You don’t have to be a martyr about this,” he said, more than willingly backed down on his own mattress. “They’re adults—your brother and Five. They can make decisions without you feeling responsible for what those decisions are, whether they’re good ones or bad ones.”

“Unfortunately, in the eyes of the law,” Jeremiah said, kissing the side of Bruce’s neck while he palmed him through his jeans, “I’m Jerome’s keeper. If he makes a decision that results in Five getting killed, which almost happened once already—or in Five killing _him_ , which would be equally bad for Five—it’ll be my fault. Jerome is free because I selfishly made a dishonorable deal with Warden Quimby.”

“I don’t understand how what you did was…” Bruce stopped thinking when Jeremiah unzipped him and worked a hand through the front of his boxer-briefs, his touch as reverent as it had been the first time they’d ended up in bed. “Fuck.”

“Fuck _up_ is more like it,” Jeremiah said, drawing Bruce’s erection out, stroking him lightly enough that it didn’t cause much discomfort in the absence of lubricant. “Do you mind if I try something? It’ll keep me from talking.”

“Why would I want you to stop— _oh_ ,” Bruce gasped, understanding when Jeremiah kissed from his chest down to his belly. “You, _ah_ —you can.”

Jeremiah didn’t spend much time on the tease. He made a relieved sound and took Bruce in his mouth—just tasting him, tenderly inquisitive.

Bruce tipped his head back against the duvet, eyes closed tight. He could feel his orgasm, hot and insistent, building already. Just this was enough.

Instead of stopping when Bruce tugged at Jeremiah’s hair, an incoherent warning, Jeremiah moaned. He took Bruce deep, swallowing around him.

Shame wasn’t quite what Bruce felt, knowing he wouldn’t last a minute. Awe was more like it, that and sheer gratitude, that Jeremiah would give him this as readily as he’d already let Bruce have him in a way that might well have proved too invasive.

Jeremiah didn’t pull off when Bruce came. He didn’t even choke—unless that was the slight flex of his throat, and Bruce simply didn’t know any better. Afterward, he kissed the insides of Bruce’s thighs and rested his warm cheek against Bruce’s hip.

“Come here,” Bruce whispered after a while, and helped Jeremiah get partway undressed.

Insisting Bruce didn’t have to return the favor, Jeremiah pinned Bruce to the mattress, kissing him mercilessly, until he was hard again. Jeremiah’s groan when he lifted up enough to guide Bruce inside him was almost too much.

“Do you know,” Jeremiah panted, rolling his hips down against Bruce’s in a slow, savoring rhythm, “I never thought I’d trust somebody enough to let them do this, even when I was second guessing whether or not I was really—”

“I hate that you had a moment like that,” Bruce said. “You shouldn’t—Jeremiah, fuck, _fuck_ —have to. I know who you are. So do you.”

“Who knew you had such a mouth,” Jeremiah laughed. “Next time, I’ll let you _really_ use it.”

“You should have known,” Bruce managed, pushing at Jeremiah’s shoulders until he sat back enough, his damp palms braced against Bruce’s chest, for Bruce to touch him. “I sounded like that the first time.”

“I was preoccupied,” Jeremiah sighed, arching into the pressure of Bruce’s palm, “like now.”

Bruce found the angle hard on his wrist, and he wondered if rubbing at Jeremiah like this was less comfortable than he let on. The lubricant wasn’t within easy reach, and the last thing he wanted was to cause Jeremiah pain.

“If this doesn’t feel okay,” Bruce said, watching Jeremiah’s expression, “you’d…you’ll tell me?”

Jeremiah nodded convulsively, eyes shut, his breathing erratic. “Yes, I’d…do that, I’m sure…”

Bruce couldn’t hold back even with the edge off, but Jeremiah was only seconds behind him.

“Was that enough rest?” Bruce asked faintly, holding Jeremiah close while their hearts slowed. 

“Enough to make me _need_ rest,” Jeremiah yawned, scratching pleasantly at Bruce’s scalp.

“You’re good at getting what you want,” Bruce said, finally able to flip Jeremiah over because he’d gone boneless on top of him. “I’m done for.”

“Done in, is more like it,” Jeremiah said, lazily smirking. “You know it goes both ways,” he said, his voice softening. “I’d do anything for you.”

“That’s not a requirement,” Bruce said. “If your boundaries ever come back into effect, tell me.”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” Jeremiah echoed, tugging Bruce down for a kiss. “Bruce, I promise.”

Bruce nodded, watching Jeremiah’s eyes as they drew apart. He knew that Jeremiah could mask his emotions with more skill than Jerome ever could. It was difficult not to chase that thought until it dissipated into a sense of indistinct unease. Broaching it was the hard part.

“From what Harley says, from what we saw here and at Arkham…” Bruce bit his lip, tucking his chin over Jeremiah’s shoulder so he wouldn’t have to watch Jeremiah’s expression, in the event that what Bruce was about to say angered him. “Jerome has the capacity to love. So does Five. Both of those things surprise me. I’m not proud of that. They’re as human as we are.”

“That’s not what should surprise you. Jerome has always loved me—hell, he even loved Mom and Uncle Zach, at least until he couldn’t. I’ve been trying to make it up to him, getting his Arkham sentence shortened, and…” Jeremiah fell silent. “Bruce, he was put there for what he did to you. My actions are an insult. Jerome saw right through me. He could tell that, at first, I was only doing it to assuage my own guilt.”

“All Jerome did at Pride and at the docks was inconvenience me,” Bruce insisted. “The worst was when we were both younger. Galavan, the magic show at the gala—you saw most of it on television. Maybe not what he did to me at the Boardwalk Circus, but you saw the parts of it that didn’t involve me.” He frowned. “What’s the thing that should surprise me?”

“That _I’m_ capable of loving you at all,” Jeremiah said, his voice laced with self-loathing.

Bruce lifted his head and looked Jeremiah in the eye, realizing that he, in choosing to hide his face, as the one who’d been insensitive. He touched Jeremiah’s flushed cheek, finding the skin there fever-hot with distress.

“Why would I think you aren’t?” Bruce asked, pressing his forehead to Jeremiah’s. “We share the same flaws. Do you think I didn’t know that from the first night we met, given the conversation we had after Jerome left the station? I saw your disdain for Jerome’s actions; it matched mine. You heard what I asked Jim—how he could just let Jerome walk free—and didn’t call me on it.”

Jeremiah ran his thumbs beneath Bruce’s stinging eyes, pensive. “So what do we do?”

Bruce thought about that for a while, relieved when Jeremiah kissed him. “About Five and Jerome? Wait—I can’t keep thinking of it like that. _We_ can’t keep thinking of it like that. It has to be what we can do _for_ them.”


	3. Jeremiah

“I don’t think Harley’s here to act as an intermediary,” said Jeremiah, the next morning, as they got out of Bruce’s Mustang and approached the bunker’s entrance. “We’ll have to be careful.”

“Why?” Bruce asked, leaning close to the panel. “Wayne 425,” he said, pressing his thumb to it.

“Jerome’s going to be obnoxiously protective of the space now they’ve had it to themselves.”

“Are you sure this isn’t the best place for them?” Bruce asked as the elevator took them down.

“I might be wrong about Five’s lodging preferences,” Jeremiah said, “but he was uneasy on that elevator we took down to the Indian Hill facility.”

“True,” Bruce said when the door opened, leading them into the familiar fluorescent-lit hall.

Jeremiah peered through the guest room’s open door, spotting what hung on one of the pegs.

“That’s Harley’s favorite,” he said, studying the leather jacket. “Odd that she’d leave it here.”

“Not if someone else is wearing it,” Bruce said, indicating Five’s oxblood Docs on the floor.

The sound of voices—gradually rising, but not in what sounded like an altercation—spurred them toward the living area. Five’s frantic voice was the most audible, so Jeremiah, without giving prudence a second thought, used his passcode to gain access.

Bruce put his arm out in front of Jeremiah as soon as they stepped into the doorway, uneasy at the sight that met them. Jerome was standing rigid where the linoleum met the carpet, tensely watching Five, who was pacing a few feet away, mumbling to himself.

“What happened?” Jeremiah asked in as neutral a tone as he could manage. “Jerome, what—”

“Nightmare,” Jerome said, keeping his eyes fixed worriedly on Five. “Pretty fuckin’ bad one.”

“You or Five?” Bruce asked cautiously, lowering his arm, satisfied Jeremiah wouldn’t budge.

“Who d’you think, Sherlock?” Jerome shot back, finally taking a few steps forward when Five, staring wild-eyed at Jeremiah and Bruce, stopped in his tracks. He put his hands on Five’s shoulders. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Don’t mind ’em.”

“I don’t want them here,” Five said, his tone rising toward furious panic. “I don’t _want_ —”

“Princess,” Jerome murmured, turning Five’s head toward him with a gentle hand on Five’s jaw. 

“Huh?” Five whispered tearfully. “Are you gonna tell them to go away now? Where’s Harley?”

Jeremiah looked to Bruce, feeling beyond lost. They’d come to deliver a proposal to prevent the very thing they were witnessing.

“Harley’s with the GF. Young love, am I right?” Jerome asked, taking Five in his arms, kissing Five’s cheek. “I know you’re tired, precious.”

Five shot Jeremiah and Bruce a cold, bleary glare before hiding his face in Jerome’s neck.

“Yeah,” he muttered bitterly, clinging to Jerome with shaky, but determined arms. “I am.”

“You asked to try my nighttime meds the other day,” Jerome replied. “Did that help any?”

Five nodded, some kind of hesitation evident in his lack of speech. “Don’t wanna use up…”

“We’re gonna get you sorted out,” Jerome said. “Harley’s gonna get us both set up with somebody to take care of that, okay? Real soon.”

Five nodded again, releasing a shuddering sigh. “I need too high a dose. Higher than you.”

“That’s okay, sweet pea,” Jerome said, leading Five over to the bed. He took what looked like about six bright yellow capsules from one of the bottles and emptied the powder from each into a nearby glass of water. “This is gonna be gross, but it’ll kick in faster.”

While Jerome got Five settled under the covers, Jeremiah tilted his head toward the door, indicating Bruce should follow him out. They didn’t stop until they were in Jeremiah’s workspace, where the monitors’ statuses mirrored what they’d seen on Harley’s phone.

“Gabapentin, a.k.a. Neurontin, is for anxiety and sleep. That’s 600 milligrams above the max of 1,200—which is what Jerome and I take.”

“I doubt that’ll poison him, but…they need a prescriber as much as they need a therapist. Can Harley deliver what Jerome promises?”

Jeremiah shrugged, adjusting one of the outdoor camera feeds. “I don’t see why not.”

“If not prescriber, would _she_ be able to act in the capacity of therapist?” Bruce asked.

“She more or less finished the B.A., just doesn’t have it on paper. She’s good at everything she does, though. You should hear her pick _me_ apart.”

“I’ll speak to the Psychology faculty at GU,” Bruce said decisively. “I want to ensure she retroactively receives her diploma. I’ll fully fund her Master’s or Doctorate, or whatever she needs.”

“This is probably the impetus she’s needed,” Jeremiah admitted, relieved. “Patients she already cares about, both of whom aren’t me.”

“I don’t want you to move back here,” Bruce said, “but if you would rather, I understand.”

Jeremiah turned from the security console, meeting Bruce’s gaze. “I wouldn’t, Bruce.”

An hour later, while the two of them were in the midst of packing up Jeremiah’s blueprints, files, and models, Jerome let himself into the room.

“My baby’s in bad shape because you turned up. He wasn’t fine, but we were workin’ on it.”

“Is he asleep?” Bruce asked, drawing Jerome’s aggression away from Jeremiah. “Can we talk?”

Jerome checked an imaginary watch on his wrist. “Thirty seconds. Speak your piece and scram.”

“Knock it off,” Jeremiah said, dropping the box he’d been packing noisily on his desk. “Bruce is offering his Midtown penthouse. You can’t get further from underground than that.”

Raising his eyebrows, Jerome turned his attention back to Bruce. “So what’s the catch, exactly?”

“No catch,” Bruce said calmly, “but I want you to keep your word to Five about therapy and medication.”

Jeremiah rolled his eyes when Jerome scowled. “ _And_ he’s going to pay for Harley to go back to school.”

Jerome’s scowl faded instantly, but his demeanor was still wary. “We’re not movin’ anywhere today, though.”

“Of course you’re not,” Jeremiah agreed, “but you’re going to let Bruce and me pack up the rest of my work.”


	4. Jerome

“Jerome!” Five shouted from down the hall. “Get in here! You need to take a look at this!”

Nobody to ignore Five’s orders, Jerome quit snooping in fancy kitchen cupboards full of even fancier foodstuffs and followed the sound of Five’s voice into the largest bedroom. He knew there were several in the place, but he’d had different initial priorities.

Five stood in front of a wall-section that was almost entirely occupied by a full-length mirror.

“I’ve never had one of these,” he said reverently, studying their reflections as Jerome came up behind him. “Always wanted one, though. I always had to use the ones at work to check how my outfits looked.”

“Sexy, that’s how,” Jerome said, wrapping his arms around Five’s middle, kissing Five’s cheek until Five laughed. “Love you in these jeans,” he added sticking a hand in Five’s pocket. “Love you out of ’em.”

“Jeez, stop,” Five protested weakly, but he blushed and grinned. “No, don’t. Love you, too.”

Jerome grunted at the sudden flare of pain in his shoulder. Dr. Thompson had stitched him up with greater skill than anybody else who’d ever treated him, but he was still sore there—and on his abdomen, too.

Five stopped smiling. “Is it the one from the night we met, or the one you asked me to…?”

“Meet cute,” Jerome told him, kissing Five’s hair this time, “and that’s the point. Hurts real good.”

“Okay,” Five said, meeting Jerome’s eyes in the mirror. “As long as you’re sure. Both will scar.”

“You gave ’em to me,” Jerome replied. “Makes the old ones I didn’t choose less…well, just _less_.”

Five twisted around in Jerome’s embrace, winding his arms around Jerome’s neck. He backpedaled slowly, pulling Jerome along until he fell onto the huge bed, and Jerome had no choice but to fall on top of him. They kissed for a while, slow and searing.

“Can we kick them out yet?” Five asked, his hazel-blue eyes dark with unabashed desire.

“Not until Bruce’s done inspectin’ stuff for us,” Jerome replied, rolling off him. “Sucks.”

“Not as much as it will once they leave,” Five said absently, and then broke into a sly grin.

“Don’t tease,” Jerome said, stroking Five’s flushed cheek. “I’m gonna make you feel so—”

When the door opened a fraction, Jerome sat up in a hurry, slightly relieved at who peered in.

“I didn’t leave much here,” Bruce said, pretending he hadn’t heard. “I’ll check the kitchen.”

“You go on and unpack,” Jerome told Five, kissing him again as soon as Bruce was gone. “I’ll make sure you-know-who isn’t gettin’ into trouble.”

Five propped himself on his elbows, hair a lovely disaster, watching Jerome leave. “Close the door. Tell them not to bother me. They’ll be sorry.”

Jerome could guess what that meant. It was all the more reason to get rid of their escorts.

“Jesus!” Jeremiah hissed when Jerome snuck up behind him on the living room balcony.

“Wasn’t gonna push ya,” Jerome taunted, shaking Jeremiah by his stiff shoulders. “Relax.”

“Maybe not this time,” Jeremiah muttered, shrugging him off. “It’s…quite a view, isn’t it?”

Jerome rested his forearms against the railing, leaning hard. “Don’t get any ideas, genius. You can’t have the place.”

“You think I’d want _this_ when I have Wayne Manor?” Jeremiah scoffed. “Absurd.”

“Dunno, you tell me,” Jerome said, fixing him with an incisive look. “I mean, why Bruce?”

“Why Five?” Jeremiah countered, still staring out over the city. “You don’t trust that easily.”

Jerome snorted. “ _I_ don’t trust easily? Says the guy who lived underground for six years.”

“Because I saw him,” Jeremiah said, “and he saw me in return. Not everything’s rational.”

Jerome was shocked to realize he understood. “Five threw a knife at me. Rest’s history.”

“Not everything’s a joke, either,” Jeremiah chided. “You _really_ fell for him. How?”

“Well, the knife thing wasn’t a joke,” Jerome admitted, “but, uh…Five’s got none of the stuff I hate in a person. He’s got a sense of humor.”

Jeremiah removed his glasses so the sun wasn’t glinting off them anymore. “I ask because, in some ways, he’s not that different from me.”

“Sure, Five’s kind of a nerd. Likes to read and everything, but—hey, I can appreciate that. Way more than when we were kids, anyway.”

Jeremiah sighed, shaking his head. “Bruce got a copy of Five’s Indian Hill file from the D.A.”

“Oh,” Jerome said dismissively. “The biology thing. Different variant from you. So what?”

“There’s not just that,” Jeremiah went on, pocketing his glasses. “What if he’s—or she’s, or _they’re_ —like me the other way, too? Like Harley?”

“Five’s figurin’ himself out like I was, like you _did_ ,” said Jerome, taking his turn to stare at the city. “Whatever princess decides is fine by me.”

Jeremiah clapped Jerome on the shoulder, startling Jerome as badly as Jerome had startled him.

“I didn’t think you’d ever find someone. Not that it’s necessary. Didn’t think I would, either.”

“Hey, uh…” Jerome shrugged him off, and then turned, resolve shattered, and hugged him.

Jeremiah froze like he had when he and Harley had fetched Jerome from Arkham, or at Wayne Manor after Five had gone missing. “What?”

“D’you think we’ll ever be the same?” Jerome asked, his voice rough. “As when we were…”

“Kids? No,” Jeremiah said, pressing his cheek against Jerome’s hair. “But…better, maybe.”

“Get outta here,” Jerome said, shoving him away, turning so Jeremiah wouldn’t see his tears.

“Why?” asked Jeremiah, tauntingly, as he stepped from the balcony back into the living room. “Is Five getting impatient? Netflix and chill?”

“You don’t even know what that means!” Jerome shouted after him. When no rejoinder was forthcoming, he realized he was already alone.

Five hadn’t bothered with any unpacking—but, as Jerome soon discovered, he _had_ taken all his clothes off. He was lounging on the bed, covers kicked down, staring at his phone through a pair of gold-and-black framed aviator sunglasses that Jerome didn’t recognize.

“Bruce left something,” Five said smugly, tipping the shades down the bridge of his nose. “These were in the nightstand drawer. Dita Spacecraft. The internet says they cost $525.” He pushed them back up and set his phone aside, studying Jerome. “Why are you dressed?”

“Uh,” Jerome said, sitting down at the foot of the bed, hastily removing his shoes. “No reason.”

Five watched him almost impassively, arms tucked behind his head against the pile of pillows.

“That’s silly, sweet pea,” Jerome said, removing his top layers, tossing them on the floor. He was satisfied to see Five’s cool expression crack once he was shirtless. “Who’d pay that much?”

“Same kind of person who uses a French press?” Five asked, pushing the sunglasses into his hair.

“Enjoyin’ the show?” Jerome asked. He didn’t know how to strip like Foxglove folks, but he tried anyway.

“Yes,” Five said, flinging the glasses off his face when they fell back down. “Who’s the tease now?”

“Hey, takes one to know one,” Jerome said, finally naked. He crawled up from the foot of the bed, and didn’t stop until he was stretched out next to Five. “You look kinda chilly. C’mere.”

Five rolled over, pressing their bodies so close it made them both shiver. “We live here now?”

“Yup,” Jerome replied, tucking Five’s hair behind his ear. “What are you gonna do with me?”

Five shrugged, suddenly shy. “I was going to blow you, but you implied you’d…do me first?”

“Still gonna, if that’s what you want,” Jerome said, tapping Five’s nose. “What is it, precious?”

“Did you talk to him?” Five asked hesitantly, tracing Jerome’s scars from jawline to forehead.

“Yeah, in fact,” Jerome replied, closing his eyes in contentment. “Didn’t go too badly, even.”

“Figured,” said Five, with laughter in his voice. “You aren’t asking for help with the bodies.”

“Hopefully it’s not gonna come to that,” Jerome replied. “Sad to say it, but the guy’s not bad.”

“Not bad figuratively, maybe,” Five observed, mussing Jerome’s hair. “Literally, though…”

“Yeah, he did some bad shit before I _ever_ got around to doin’ mine,” Jerome agreed.

“I wouldn’t just go to Arkham with you,” Five said quietly. “I’d even go _for_ you.”

“Not gonna happen,” said Jerome, and kissed his cheek. “Together or not at all, right?”

Five nodded, sliding his hand from Jerome’s chest to his belly. “That’s really fucking hot.”

“Can I ask you something?” Jerome sighed, relaxing as Five caressed him. “Why me?”

Five tilted his head, lost in thought even as he curled his fingers around Jerome’s cock.

“You shot at me, but didn’t want to. You’d been watching me all evening. I was curious.”

“That’s why we pulled our punches, sure,” Jerome agreed, squirming beneath Five’s touch.

“Why’d I fall for you?” Five asked, leaning so low over Jerome his hair curtained their faces.

“Yeah,” Jerome panted, closing his eyes as Five started to stroke him in earnest. “Why that.”

“You trusted me,” Five murmured, licking Jerome’s lower lip, and then kissed him deeply.

Jerome hadn’t come while they were kissing before, but now he understood why Five often did.

Five ran his fingers through Jerome’s hair, cuddling him while he recovered. “Nobody does.”

“Nobody, _hah_ …what?” Jerome asked hazily, grinning up at him. “Trusts you? Aw.”

Five shook his head, using the expensive sheet to clean Jerome off. “Not most of the time.”

“That’s a shame, darlin’,” Jerome said, tugging him close before rolling him onto his back.

“ _Hurry_ , please,” Five whimpered, which was all it took to remind Jerome he’d only done this for him once, that time in the shower.

“Gonna take care of you,” Jerome said, shifting down between Five’s thighs, nuzzling there until Five dug his heels into Jerome’s ribs.

“Jerome,” Five gasped. He came almost as soon as Jerome started to suck him, shaking with it.

“Don’t feel bad, precious,” Jerome rasped when he could speak, proud of himself for at least not choking. “Nobody trusts me, either.”

Five couldn’t seem to catch his breath, staring at Jerome in complete adoration. “I—I do.”

“That was implied,” Jerome reassured him, crawling back up to pull Five into his arms. “ _Shhh_.”

Five tried to even out his tremulous breathing, his head tucked against Jerome’s shoulder.

“I didn’t…bother to think about this, but…” He stretched against Jerome. “What’s next?”

Jerome hadn’t considered that. Maybe it was disquieting after what had previously defined them.

“We unpack our shit, I guess. We don’t have enough to fill this place, but that’s gonna change.”

Five nodded drowsily, fingers curling against Jerome’s bicep. “Harley needs to come see us.”

“We’re not gonna see her for a few weeks,” Jerome said, rocking him. “Between Ivy and school.”

“School?” Five echoed, sounding slightly more awake. “Did she take your advice and apply?”

“Application’s not gonna figure into it,” Jerome snickered. “Not with Bruce payin’ the tab.”

“I guess she doesn’t have much to do now that we’re here and Jeremiah lives with Bruce.”

“Anyway, it wasn’t just my advice. Jeremiah told her to go the hell back before I did.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you use his name,” Five said in astonishment. “Ever.”

“Huh,” Jerome said, idly petting Five’s hair. “I wouldn’t have thought so, but…sure?”

Five leaned his head contently into the touch. “Brother, my bro…J, like Harley does…”

“Hey, you know some folks out there call me Joker, right?” Jerome said. “Jeri did.”

“I remember,” Five replied, folding his arms on Jerome’s chest, resting his chin there.

“Fewer and fewer of ’em call me Jerome these days,” Jerome went on, “but you did.”

“Did?” Five asked, perplexed. “I call you Jerome all the time. It’s your name.”

“You used it in the alley behind the Foxglove,” Jerome said, “when we first met.”

“I never told you what I was called before,” said Five, pensively, “at Indian Hill.”

“That’s not who you are, princess,” Jerome replied, framing Five’s lovely face.


End file.
